I feel like the past 7 days have given me 3 experiences which I feel most parents can relate to in one way or another.
#1. The first one happened last week while shopping in Wal-Mart. One thing you should know about our feelings towards Wal-Mart. We love it in the sense that we can get the things we need in one location, things that sometimes are harder to find elsewhere. We also feel Wal-Mart is a necessity in our lives for our budget. However, I feel I spend too much time in Wal-Mart...not intentionally, just necessarily, and according to Brett, "after 30 minutes in Wal-Mart, one begins to lose braincells".
So...last week I'm at WallyWorld with Carson and Wyatt while Halle is at school. Carson's new game is throwing objects--any object--from the cart over and over (and over again). It's a game that gets old real fast, but I'd rather be bending down, picking up after him time and again than listen to him cry, so...it's the lesser of two evils. Wyatt's new game is his insistance over wearing his red baseball cap everywhere we go. During this particular shopping excursion, we'd been in the store for an hour when I realize the bottle is missing. The last time I remembered seeing Carson hold it was about 3 rows and 3 aisles back. SIGH...trudge the grocery-laden cart and the wandering 3-year old back towards the "Home" department and look for the bottle. Crawl on hands and knees to see if bottle is under the shelves. Nope. OK...give up. Accept bottle is gone. Get back to checking off grocery list. Twenty minutes later head up front to check out (Hallelujah!). After checking out, I am putting the bags into the cart--regarding this, by the way, I am always paranoid I haven't collected all my bags. I've had more occasions than I'd like to admit where I get home and realize a bag full of products I have PAID for was left at the store. Anyway, we check out and as we're leaving I see at Customer Service a BOTTLE sitting on the counter. YIPEE!! Praise be to the shopper who took the time to turn in a bottle. However, as I claim which is rightfully ours, I notice Wyatt's hair. Interesting, considering I shouldn't be able to see his hair, since his hat should be covering it! "Where's your hat?" The reply is a very casual, "Um, I don't know. It's lost." Incidentally, searching the vault of my memory the last time I can truly recall seeing the red cap was the same area I had last remembered seeing the bottle. (Beware: Possible Bermuda Triangle located in the "Home" department at Wal-Mart. Specifically the towel aisle.) SIGH. This was a cute hat--one that I even got on SALE for a killer deal at The Children's Place. I loved that hat. Since I'm already at customer service, I ask them about the hat. Not seen it. I leave my name and # in case it is found (which proves NOT to be helpful, as I never get that blessed phonecall). So, once again, I lug my two kids and $127-worth of groceries back to the klepto-aisle. Nope, not there. Now I am wearily pushing my over-filled cart, my soggy-diaper baby, and my heart-broken 3-year old back to the van, who has just truly realized the consequences of losing his favorite hat.
Doesn't it wear you out just reading about a trip to Wal-Mart?
#2. Yesterday morning, like every other morning, Wyatt insisted on "picking out his cereal"--as if we have so many boxes to choose from. This particular day he chose the box of corn flakes that was too tall for the shelf, so I had laid it on it's side. Because it was picked up at a weird angle, he accidentally held it upside down. The top flaps opened, as well as the plastic bag opening (of course, the plastic only remains partially close together when you are trying to pour and nothing is really coming out). Corn flakes EVERYWHERE. The entire contents of the box are now on my pantry and kitchen floor. I couldn't help myself. I busted up laughing. When he saw he had no need to fear me (this time...ha ha), he started chuckling himself and then gave a sincere, NON-PROMPTED, apology. It went something like this...he looked down, shook his head, and smacked his forhead with his palm. "Oh, my goodness. I am so so so sorry, Mommy!" Followed by another cute Wyatt chuckle. Good times at the Taft house! I took a picture. When I can figure it out, I will post it on here.
#3. Surprise, surprise, another Wal-Mart story. You know those moments when you think you should do something, but don't, and then seconds later you realize you totally should have listened to yourself??? Today I was at Wal-Mart (again). We'd been there over an hour. Wyatt had been extremely good, as had Carson. I was down the bread aisle, which always gives me hope because that means I am almost back to the check-out stands!!!! A few aisle back, Wyatt had asked if he could play with a plastic ring of beads I'd pulled out of my purse for Carson to chew on. "Sure," I say. Now that we are in the bread aisle, I notice Wyatt is no longer playing with them. "Where is the toy?" I ask. "I don't know," he says casually. "It must be lost." Had we been in the Home Department, I may have seriously began to have my suspicions about Wal-Mart. But so far my suspicions are reserved for ShopKo, where for the last three (yes, 3!) visits Wyatt's pull-up has been on funny or crooked or something and he has peed on the floor! (No joke...my family can vouch that bad things happen to me and my children's diapers when I'm in ShopKo). OK...back from the tangent. So this time, I am too tired to even look for the toy. It was 97 cents, for crying out loud. My time & energy is worth more than the toy. As we are talking about it being lost, however, I have stopped the cart and am trying to make Carson a bottle--he'd had it with this shopping trip and wants out of here. I take the lid/nipple off the bottle full of water, and place the bottle on a box of kleenex that is sitting in the back of the cart, while I get the formula out of the diaper bag. For a split-second I think, "I ought to move that so it doesn't tip over." Then I say to myself smartly, "Nah...it looks pretty sturdy and the formula's right here." Yep, that's when Carson looks behind him and as he tries to grab it knocks it over and spills water all over our groceries. And to top it all off he is now angry at MOM because he no longer has a bottle to drink! When I get to the check out, the lady looks at me funny because most of the water landed on a bunch of medicine boxes I'd bought (a box of Airbourne Tablets, a box of Children's Sudafed Cold & Cough, a box of DayQuil, and a box of Nighttime Cough...any guesses on what we're trying to ward away at our house?) and now the boxes are all soggy and gross. "Lady," I want to say, "I don't really care as long as you can still scan them. Thatta girl--scan away, scan away!"